Armored Passion | The Mandalorian

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My jaw fucking hurts. 

I can't believe that prick actually whipped me with my own lightsaber. 

I slowly peel my eyes open, taking in my dark surroundings. I'm not in a normal holding cell, at least, not one that I would consider being normal. Who knows, maybe the Empire upgraded what they would normally call a holding cell because this place looks a lot nicer compared to what they used to look like. 

I try to sit up, but my back muscles painfully strain against each other since I can't set my hands on the plush mattress set beneath me. My hands are cuffed in front of me, tightly bound with little to no room to work with. I look around some more, managing to set myself up properly as I do so. 

Well, this definitely isn't a normal holding cell. 

The room had been made to be a replica of the bedroom that I had stayed in as a child when I was under the tight hold of the Empire. It has the same shape as the bedroom, the same furniture, and the same smell of fresh sheets and sterile bandages. I clench my jaw and look over to my right, staring at the same black wall that Vader had stared at the night Ahsoka had torn through his metal helmet with her lightsaber.  

I'm back. 

Back where it all started. 

And I can't do a damn thing about it. 

Tears start to build up in my eyes, threatening to fall until they start slipping down my cheeks in warm cascades. I close my eyes and dip my head down, letting my chin meet my chest. My shoulders shake and my chest practically heaves, but a gentle voice interrupts my ongoing breakdown. 

"I'm sorry."

My eyes immediately snap open and I look up to see a tall, glowing force ghost of a young man standing a few feet from the foot of my bed. I quickly wipe at my burning eyes, my body falling stiff and uncomfortable. 

"Who the hell are you?" I breathe out as I slowly shift away from the floating figure. 

"Anakin Skywalker, but you probably know by better as Darth Vader," he answers, nodding his head once while awkwardly clasping his hands together near his front. My eyes widen and I crane my head forward. 

"You've gotta be shitting me," I say, shaking my head in disbelief as I slowly fall backward, letting my back hit the soft mattress beneath me. "So, I was right when I said Gideon was going to make you come back as a force ghost to give me the whole Sith one-o-one rundown again."

"No." He lets out a light chuckle that resonates throughout the room, adding a small smile with his gesture. "I'm not here to do that."

"No?" I question, glancing at him. He shakes his head, letting me know that he was truthful about what he had said. I nod my head back and let my eyes flick towards the ceiling, staying away from his glowing figure. "You know, I tried to reach out to you through the force a while back."

"I know," he confirms. 

"I never got a response."

"I know."

We sit in pure silence for a few agonizing moments, not daring to look at each other. It's obvious that he isn't the person that I had known all those years ago. He's not Darth Vader. He's simply Anakin Skywalker. My qualm has nothing to do with him... in a sense. 

"So, what prompted you to talk to me now?" I ask, letting out a small sigh. 

"I just thought that you could use someone to talk to in your unfortunate circumstance," he says, shrugging his shoulders. I let out a low hum, not necessarily expecting his answer. "I saw that you met Ahsoka when you were on Corvus."